


here we are again on tuesdays

by knoxoursavior



Category: Banana Fish (Anime & Manga)
Genre: Canon Compliant, M/M, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-09
Updated: 2018-12-09
Packaged: 2019-09-14 21:44:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,053
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16920957
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/knoxoursavior/pseuds/knoxoursavior
Summary: Sing shouldn't be here.





	here we are again on tuesdays

Sing doesn’t know what he’s thinking. He doesn’t know why he ended up on Eiji’s doorstep, of all places.

Sing swallows against the lump in his throat, wipes his sweaty palms on the fabric of his pants. He shouldn’t be here.

The last time he saw Eiji was when they last bumped into each other at the cemetery. The last time he and Eiji actually had a conversation was the day he flew back here, and that ended with Eiji walking away, hiding himself in the bathroom of his hotel room for ages.

If Sing knocks on his door now, Eiji will no doubt let him in, will no doubt ask him if he wants anything to drink. Eiji will ask him how he is, and Sing will lie, and Eiji will do the same thing when Sing asks him the same question. The silence will be heavy, just like it always is, all but screaming at them that there’s a gaping void in between them, impossible to fill. 

It’s pointless. It’s cruel. And yet Eiji will no doubt let him in anyway because that’s the kind of person he is.

Sing shouldn’t be here.

He shouldn’t force Eiji to open his home to him. He shouldn’t force Eiji to remind himself of  _ before _ , to look at another person who got left behind, who got to live instead of—

Anyway.

Sing shouldn’t be here.

He doesn’t know what he was thinking, going here, but he needs to leave. He doesn’t know what he’d say anyway, if Eiji asked him why he’s visiting so late in night. Sing can’t tell him the truth. He can’t do that to Eiji.

So Sing turns around, starts to walk away.

But then—

“Sing?”

His heart stops in his chest and he stops in his tracks.

“Aren’t you going to come in?” Eiji asks.

Sing shouldn’t. He should just keep walking away.

But Eiji has always been someone he could trust. Next to Ash and Shorter, Eiji has always been there for Sing. He knows it’s a bad idea, knows that Eiji needs space right now, needs time to heal.

Sing knows all that, but—

He also knows that being at home is suffocating, makes him feel like he has rope wrapped tight around his neck, constricting around his windpipe more and more until he’s gasping for breath. He knows that the sight of Lao makes the edges of his vision blur, makes his heart ache in his chest, makes his fists clench at his sides. 

He knows that he wanted to get away. Far away. Somewhere he’d be able to lower his guard. Somewhere he’d be able to do something about the pitch-black guilt that’s taken over his entire body. 

And that somewhere is with Eiji, apparently. Shorter and Ash are gone, after all. Lao, who he once trusted, might as well be gone too.

“If it’s alright with you,” Sing says.

“Of course it is,” Eiji replies, and when he starts to walk back inside his apartment, Sing follows.

Eiji leads him to the kitchen, makes him take one of the seats along the kitchen island. Sing does, and he sits there as he waits, listens to the sound of coffee pouring, of a spoon clinking against the inside of a ceramic mug as Eiji stirs.

Sing sits there and he watches the line of Eiji’s shoulder, relaxed as far as he can tell. The curve of Eiji’s nape is framed by the crumpled collar of his shirt, and Sing wants to brush his hand against it just to make sure Eiji isn’t burning up with all the emotions that are no doubt churning inside him.

“I can’t remember if you take cream with your coffee,” Eiji says, and Sing barely keeps himself from jumping in his seat.

“One sugar, no cream,” Sing says.

“Ah. I got it right, then.”

There it is. Eiji’s smiling but it doesn’t reach his eyes. Sing wants to ask him to stop, wants to tell him he doesn’t need to pretend. 

But Sing knows that sometimes, pretending is the only way to keep on living, so he stops the words before they can crawl out of his mouth, halts them before he can hurt Eiji even more than he probably already is.

The coffee Eiji hands him tastes a little bit bitter, but everything does, these days.

“I heard that you’re taking photos again,” Sing says. His words sound loud to his ears, even though they must be barely above a whisper.

“I guess.” Eiji shrugs. He doesn’t elaborate. Instead, “I heard you’re working for the Lees now.”

“I guess,” Sing echoes. He doesn’t elaborate either. He doesn’t want to talk about the Lees. He doesn’t feel like skirting around the topic of Yut-lung tonight. 

Sing watches Eiji wrap his hands around the mug in his hands. Sing’s mug is still burning hot; Eiji’s must be too, and that’s—

Sing can turn a blind eye to Eiji’s empty smiles. He can keep his mouth shut about his opinion on Eiji staying here in New York. After all, he can’t blame Eiji for the first one, and Sing has no business telling Eiji where to live, but he can’t willing sit here and let Eiji physically hurt himself.

Sing reaches across the kitchen island, takes Eiji’s hands in his and squeezes. He ignores the way Eiji’s breath audibly hitches, the way Eiji’s hands shake in his. He holds on until Eiji’s skin is only warm enough that Sing knows he’s alright, until he knows that both the pain and the numbness are gone.

When he moves to let go, though, it’s Eiji who holds onto him instead.

Sing watches the way Eiji’s mouth twists, the way his throat  works, the way his hands turn even redder as they tighten around Sing’s own.

“It’s late,” Eiji says, and Sing’s heart sinks for a moment, but then—

“It’s late,” Eiji repeats. “You should stay over.”

“If it's alright with you,” Sing says. At this point, though, he doesn’t think he’d be able to let go even if Eiji changes his mind.

Eiji doesn’t change his mind, thankfully.

“I have a couch,” he says.

“I’m sure it’s a great couch,” Sing says. 

Neither of them let go of each other for a long time. 

 

**Author's Note:**

> hmu on [twitter](http://twitter.com/singeiji) or [tumblr](http://singeiji.tumblr.com/)!!


End file.
